As an act of full disclosure, I admit to a deep respect for Sunn-amped Virginia destroyers Ol Scratch, who, two and a half hours from the Richmond scene in Leesburg, have helped foster a strong group of bands leading a charge for a new generation of Southern aggressive doom. Having outlasted quality acts like VOG and Lord, Ol Scratch and the likes of Durga Temple, Admiral Browning and Valkyrie have helped ensure that high grade riffs and unique approaches to classic sounds won’t disappear when Erik Larson hangs up his spurs once and for all.? On their debut full-length following numerous demos, splits and EPs, The Sunless Citadel (Oppressive Sound System Releases), the five-piece maul listeners through 10 tracks of brimstone-stinking sludge and come out of it on the other end with nothing to do but pick their audience from out their teeth.

The Sunless Citadel begins with the heady dronefest title track, starting and ending with classic sludge samples and setting a tone of fuck-you-doom-out that persists the whole album long. Drums don’t actually appear until the malevolence of “Infernal Judgement” (sic) gets under way, a heavy as balls slow sludge turning Sourvein swamp boogie at around a minute and a half. The guitars of “Will-Kill” Rivera and “King” James Haun are so thick it’s easy to lump them in with “Dreamy” Steve Payne‘s bass as one noisy, distorted morass. They’ve moved from fuzzy to downright hairy.

A sample of a truck starting is an appropriate beginning for “Redneck Deity,” on which vocalist Andy “Ghandi” Murray screams his way through an apocalyptic zombie nightmare while a chuck steak stoner riff sizzles over top. The darker, slower “Draconian March” is less groove-based and more in line with the opener, and Murray throws down some of the most agonized, tortured throat-ripping to be found on The Sunless Citadel. Just when you think your lungs are going to fill up and you’ll actually drown in guitar, the pace picks up after four minutes in and drummer Larry “Canary” Grimes moves the song to its bristling conclusion. To contrast, “Bottom Basement” feels like drunkard’s regret with sludge crunch. A high vocal wail makes an appearance here and at several other points throughout the album that straddles the line between silly and effective but comes down on the right side in the end. It’s a classic metal influence (Mercyful Fate is an obvious but not necessarily appropriate reference point) that links Ol Scratch to an ancient heavy bloodline.

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